


Without a Trace

by CosmicCove



Category: Homestuck
Genre: And Fin and Trace were together Prior to the fic, Biscuits and eggs are very in love but too stupid to realize it, I cried writing it so..., I just want them to be happy, M/M, This started as a small sypnopsis I wrote and, Writing the full story is gonna destroy me probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-20 02:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20667911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicCove/pseuds/CosmicCove
Summary: After a particularly bloody battle, the Felt finds they are missing one of their members.  After months of searching, they declare that Trace is probably dead, victim to that... Thing they were fighting before.  But without a body for proof, Fin just won't have it.  He gathers together a small group of his teammates who have agreed to assist him in looking for their missing friend.  When it looks like it's at its worst, things get even more complex when the monster they ran into ends up causing time shenanigans, further lowering the odds of finding their missing friend by screwing up their powers.





	1. False Hope

YOUR NAME IS FIN,  
and you are absolutely done with everything. You know when someone mentions a breaking point? You are having yours right now. You are in your room with all the lights turned off and the door closed, your head down on a desk and your arms wrapped around it.  
"Hey, um..." A soft voice sounds behind you. It was Sawbuck. "Crowbar says you have to come into the meeting room."  
You don’t move. It's so quiet you both can almost feel the weight of nothingness. It is so different from everywhere else, so different from how the room should be, and you were never the type of person to go silent like this until a month ago. That's when everything changed, it seemed.  
There wasn't much to say on the matter. About two months ago, the doc had sent them on a crazy mission to go fight some monster. Crowbar had said that they weren't monster hunters. The Doc said he didn’t care. The creature was some strange engineered mashup of beasts, and apparently whoever made the thing really had it out for them, so they’d better attack it before it attacked them or whatever. After it was defeated, they may want to find whoever made the thing and also give them a good wallop as well. Nobody really paid attention to what the doc said because he takes two hours to give two sentences of information. But that was the gist of it. He also said that you should all go. This mission would be trickier to complete than usual.  
Looking back now, you should have listened better. You would have hung onto every word if you had known. The luxury of omnipotence that Scratch brags about everyday- that fucker knew. That battle was the worst in the history of the Felt, by your standards at least. Bloodbath isn’t exactly what should be used to describe it. No one on the team died on the field, save a few clones of Eggs and Biscuits from other times. But the collateral damage was great, and the sight of so many mangled carapaces was unsettling, even for a stone-cold mobster like you. You all had to retreat and regroup. It was the one time you and Trace got separated that day. One time was all it took.  
Now, no one can find Trace, you are now in a dark room alone all sad and such, and now another one of your teammates is calling you in for probably the thirtieth meeting you’ve been to this week, and it’s most likely about Trace’s disappearance. You feel a hand soft against your shoulder.  
“Fin,” Sawbuck said, “It seemed pretty important. Crowbar looked real serious and I think it’s in your best interest to come. Maybe it will be good news?”  
Sawbuck was a more positive person than you, and you’ll never be as carefree as he is, but something about the tenderness in his voice still manages to make a sliver of hope rattle in you like a marble in a jar.  
Finally, you stand up. Your legs are tingling now, and the sudden movement makes your head spin, but you’re up. You make your way to the meeting room. You have been here a million times to be briefed by the doc (if briefing applies to the long winded), but the past few days have felt surreal. You enter the room and in Scratch’s place is Crowbar leading the meeting. He talks about statistics that go over everyone’s heads and about search efforts people have put forward to find Trace. You have been searching diligently, and that’s what Crowbar is going to say to the whole group. They are all searching diligently. You always follow up in your head with “but not enough.” It will never be enough. Not until you find Trace.  
As you sit in the midst of your friends, it’s noticeably less noisy than it had been, even by current standards. Maybe most of your companions are beginning to feel that same hopelessness you were just before. Hell, even Sawbuck who managed to give you something to hold onto seems to be in low spirits. Everyone had been affected by Trace's disappearance, and it was clear as day in everything they did. You didn't think you'd ever see the day that doze got any slower- you thought it impossible -but he was at nearly a stand still, if he were moving at all. It was hard to tell. Itchy, however, was easy to read; so easy it was as though his thoughts were neatly printed in size 50 Calibri font across his face, and his face said that currently he was severely caffeine deprived and super sluggish. You've seen him like this before, but so to this extent. For as hard as you've been searching for Trace, Itchy has been second in his efforts. Itchy, Trace, and yourself used to play games of table stickball together (And others too, but mostly just table stickball), so he and you are a couple of friends looking for your lost pal. Still, he and Trace are not as close as you and Trace are; not by a long shot. Your fairly certain that the two of you are equally sleep deprived. You know you have only slept a few days in the months that Trace has been gone, and the guy looks equal in exhaustion.  
Cans and Crowbar always look guilty now, and you don't know why Cans seems to care so much, but the latter tries to keep a cool composure because he's supposed to be the leader and it keeps up morale, you guess. It shows though. He loses face for brief moments, when he thinks no one is watching, when he scans the room and looks at all you boys, clearly still shaken that he lost one. It's not as though you guys weren't expecting a moment like this. You guys are constantly in gang fights, after all. You just wonder every day, why him? I mean, you'd rather all your friends stay safe and alive, but if anyone had to die- no, not die, disappear- why Trace? You just don't understand, and if you don't find him, you never will. That's what tears you up so much. But you’re so sure he's out there, somewhere, waiting for you to save him.  
Crowbar stands before you all, and the few murmurs exchanged between your teammates silence. He stands there looking at you all. It's not his usual, intense stare that commands respect, it's softer, like he wonders which boy he's going to lose next. A stillness falls over the room, as if you are all frozen like Doze.  
"I think," Crowbar says, his voice strained ever so slightly because he's trying to mask the sorrow, but you can tell. He pauses again, trying to make it even less obvious before continuing. You can tell that hiding his emotions has been gnawing on him; he looks tired. You are pretty sure he's doing this whole 'pretending to be okay' thing to protect the rest of you. He takes a breath and finishes, "I think it's time we moved on. Trace is…" he trails off to regain face, "Gone."  
You never knew words could hurt so badly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (My friend who reads over this fic first hasn't critiqued this yet but it's been months so I'm posting it anyways)  
Fin convinces Crowbar to give him a little more time.

“No,” You look up at him, eyes shocked, clearly hurt, “No no no! He’s not gone! He’s out there, we can’t just give up! Trace needs us!”  
“Fin,” Crowbar replies firmly, “I know it’s hard, but you have to push forward and move on. He’s gone.”  
You glare at your team, pain evident in your eyes, “So you’re just going to leave him?”  
“He’s dead, Fin,” Crowbar repeated. He grits his teeth, like the words he said stung.  
“Prove it!” You whimper, “Show me a body, a sign, anything. Prove it,” You take a shaky breath, “Or I refuse to believe he’s dead.”  
Crowbar growled under his breath. “Boys, let me speak to Fin alone,” he commands. The rest of the Felt shuffles out near silently, only a wayward whisper or two passes as they leave. Varying looks of judgement, pity, or fear are cast at you.  
“Crowbar-“ You begin.  
“Listen Fin,” Crowbar interrupts with a sigh, “We can keep arguing, but what does that help? Certainly not Trace.”  
“Don’t say his name,” You grimace, “Don’t say his name like you care!”  
Crowbar is taken aback, and you can tell your words cut deep. You don't care. “Don’t say that, Fin,” Crowbar replies, almost like he’s pleading with you, but not quite. Always not quite, because heaven forbid he have emotions, or some shit.  
“If you really cared about Trace, you’d keep looking,” You yelp, trying your best to sound accusatory, although all you hear in your voice is broken desperation, and you hate it.  
“If you want to keep looking, than go look,” Crowbar says, with a softness you’ve never heard in his voice before, “But you have to accept that he’s most likely dead, Fin. You’re in denial. It will pass, but you have to take that first step.”  
“He’s not! He’s not!” You yell with a sob. You swear at yourself internally as you feel a tear rolled down your face, “He’s not!”  
Crowbar pauses for a moment. You can see that he’s thinking about what to say from the look on his face. Finally, he asks you, “If he’s not, then where’s his trail, Fin?”  
You are silent. You, well, admittedly, you aren’t sure. You could usually feel Trace’s trail no matter where he was because you guys were so close, you just knew how his felt. Now, everything seemed mixed up on itself. “Well...“  
“Where is it Fin?”  
“I DON'T KNOW, OKAY?” You shout, “It keeps coming and going! Am I imagining it? Am I not? I don’t understand what’s going on but I know he’s alive, I can feel it!”  
“Fin…” Crowbar struggles to find the right words, “With Tr-”  
“Don’t say it again,” You shutter, “I can’t bear to hear his name…”  
Crowbar stares at you, and you wish he hadn’t seen you crying. You suppose that though is a bit hypocritical of you, considering what you have been thinking about him. The look he gave you fluctuates from pity to disappointment, and back again many times before settling down into just grief. “He’s was my friend too,” Crowbar murmurs in that same quiet tone from before.  
You give him a deadened look. You know that. You all were. No matter how much anyone of you says otherwise, you all care deeply for each other. “You know we weren’t just friends,” You mumble, looking down at the floor, the image blurry from you own tears.  
Crowbar softly shook his head in understanding. “I’m so sorry.”  
“I hope you are.”  
“Fin-“  
“Stop. Don’t try to comfort me. It won’t work. I don’t want it.”  
"Fine. I won't," Crowbar relented, "You may gather some boys to help you, if you really want to keep looking. They are only allowed to join if they want to, and if anyone else winds up missing, that's the end of searching for anybody.”  
You nod curtly. "Thank you, Crowbar. I don't plan on losing anybody else.”  
"Good. I don't feel like losing anymore of you."  
"Trust me, I don't feel like it either." You walk away from your boss, eyes pointed down at your feet. The only missing members your group is going to have is one less. You swear it.  
“Oh, and Fin,” Crowbar says. You stop in your tracks to listen, but you don’t turn towards him. “Good luck.”  
So after all that, he still hopes you find him, huh? You guess that clears up something; Crowbar cares. “Thanks, boss.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So. You actually convinced Crowbar to let you continue searching, so long as you keep us safe?" Itchy asks you.  
"Yeah, that's the gist of it," You reply, preoccupied with trying to think of other people who would be on board with this.  
"I guess you're the leader now, huh?" Itchy laughed, "At least, for this mission."  
"I guess." You don't feel like laughing at that revelation with him. You don't even feel like smiling. Of course, though, Itchy couldn't stop himself from so much as a snicker, even if he tried. And you've seen him try. In fact, he's been uncharacteristically unhappy lately, similar to yourself, except when you are sad, it's much less jarring to see. It’s kind of nice to see a bit of levity in him.  
"So of course I'm on board with this plan," he says, tone almost suspiciously serious for someone who's usually as mischievous as it gets. Then again, he must be putting up an effort for Trace. If so, your impressed. He continues, "But who else is on board?"  
"I've been thinking that over. Your the only one that seemed that close to Trace though," You remark.  
"What about people who are friends with you?" Itchy asks, "Of course, you’re friends with myself. I've never heard anyone really say 'Hey, I'm friends with Fin!' but I'm sure there are."  
You shake your head. "No, not really. It was just Trace and you. You know how it goes, I guess. I mean, who else is friends with you?"  
He smirks while he thinks. "Clover, Doze, Stitch, and that asshole with the fourteen on his helmet."  
"Are you sure Quarters is actually your friend, and doesn't just put up with you?" You tease. Of course you know Quarters likes Itchy, even if Itchy always cheats when they play cards together. Stitch is basically everyone's friend; still it surprises you that Itchy would include him when you both know that Stitch isn't really close to anybody because he's friends with everybody, in his own way. Of course, you bet Itchy is trying to spare your feelings in his own, annoying-as-hell way, because everyone knows that Itchy, somehow, despite him being the biggest prick in the group, managed to have the most friends of you all. Hell, the only person who probably dislikes Itchy is Doze, which is kind of funny considering that Itchy listed him as a friend. Last time you talked to Doze, it was pretty obvious that he hates Itchy, which, you suppose, makes sense considering their powers are complete opposites. You wonder why you even asked.  
"I'm sure you’re friends with Clover as well," Itchy poked back. Okay, scratch that, you were wrong. Clover has the most friends in the group, but you'd rather not think about that right now.  
"What happens with two men behind closed doors is not of your business, Itchy," You respond, feeling your cheeks get pink.  
Itchy snickers. "What was it? Rainbows? Horseshoes? Diamonds? Oh, I bet diamonds!"  
"Stop, Itchy," you reply forcefully.  
"Okay, geez, if it's such a sensitive topic," Itchy scoffs, "I never kept anything from you."  
"You don't even need anyone to ask you to talk about it. You just do," You point out, "Aren't you sick of that guy's shtick anyways? He just wants a good time."  
Itchy laughs. "Maybe for you. Maybe for everyone else. But me? I'm Clover's bitch!"  
"Yeah, yeah, you believe that," You say, rolling your eyes. This guy. You swear to gog.  
"You know what that's like. To just be so in love with someone-"  
"Shut up."  
"Sorry."  
A silence lingers between you two. You are just not in the mood to be thinking about love right now. So maybe you and Clover do have a past. Who doesn't? The guy has, or at the very least had, charms with Doze for crying out loud! Anyways, why would you care when there was only one person you had a trove with, and who knows where Trace is.  
You decide to change the subject. "Do you think Die would be willing to help? He seems to cope with death well, so even if he thinks Trace is dead…"  
"Naw," Itchy answers, "He's super pissed off right now, even more than usual, because he didn't get the opportunity to do forensics on the corpse of his first dead teammate."  
"Great to know he cares," You off-handedly comment dryly, "You think you can convince Clover to help? Since your 'his bitch' or whatever?"  
Itchy shakes his head. "Clover always has bigger fish to fry. I'm sure he would if his schedule was more open…"  
"What's it filled with? Doing jigs with people that aren't you?" You jeer.  
Itchy jabs you. "You said we were done talking about that!" He pouts.  
"I'm kidding! Sort of…" You amend.  
"Here, if you want to find members for our search party, I'll ask around, okay? It would only take me, oh, let's see… Five minutes. Maybe ten if I get distracted."  
You turn to him. Your eyes are wide with surprise that Itchy is taking initiative. "Uh, yeah, actually! That would help a lot," you agree, "Thanks, Itchy."  
"No problem." He flashes his signature cocky grin at you, and holds up a peace sign. Instantaneously, the little shit is gone. You can't help but find his over-the-top attitude extremely funny, and a small smile begins to appear at the sides of your lips, but doesn't quite make it. He knows you find it amusing, of course, and he probably did that to make you smile. Good effort, you suppose. Gog, you hope he actually is able to recruit some boys.


End file.
